


Your happy welcome in, my heart at ease

by pearwaldorf



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ethnocentrism, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up Together, Pre-Canon, Racism, and also finding your way back to the one you were, but making it your own anyways, growing up in a culture you weren't born in, m/m friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/kyburg/works">kyburg</a> for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/marvelpocexchange">marvelpocexchange</a>, who wanted "a story about pre-IM Yinsen, Dr. Wu - how they met, how they were friends before."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your happy welcome in, my heart at ease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyburg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyburg/gifts).



> Thank you to [thingswithwings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/works) and [sabinelagrande](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/works) for their gracious assistance, and for pointing out all my unattributed dialogue, of which there was much.

By some miracle, Dà Quán had managed to find the one balcony in the hotel that wasn’t full of drunken revelers. The roar of the crowd was faint, and the air was pleasantly cool, even in winter. Yinsen supposed anything that didn’t bite into his bones like the wind in Beijing counted as not-cold. A bit of light flared from a cigarette, and Dà Quán exhaled contemplatively into the air. 

“You really should quit those things, dà gē. Do you want to go into the new millennium a smoker?” 

“Do you want to go into the new millennium butting into other people’s business, dìdi?” Dà Quán retorted. It was an old argument, one that neither of them would budge on, but the ritual was grounding, familiar, in a foreign place so far from home. “And technically, it doesn’t start until 2001, so I have another year.” He lit another, and Yinsen resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. He was a grown man with a grown child, and above such things.

“So what did you think of Stark?” Yinsen could not deny his brilliance, especially not after the presentation he gave, but he obviously had things other than scholarship on his mind. 

“He reminds me of those Party official sons who used to tease you for not being Chinese until you came crying to my house.” Dà Quán sniffed disapprovingly.

_“Mán zi! Mán zi! You’ll never be as good as a real Chinese person! Gǔn dàn!” Yinsen put his hands over his ears as the other boys shouted at him. He wasn’t surprised to discover that bullies ran in packs to feel safe, but it was another thing to be surrounded by a group of them. He was scared, and he could feel the tears threatening to spill over, even though he didn’t want them to. He wondered if they would let him take off his new school uniform first. He knew it was expensive because he heard his parents talking about it where they thought he couldn’t hear, and he didn’t want to get it dirty or ripped._

_“If you’re such fine examples of Chinese civilization, why are you picking on the new kid?” The voice belonged to a young boy behind him, about seven or eight. His school uniform was made of much finer material than Yinsen’s, and he carried a shiny new satchel. He looked angry enough that it made his would-be attackers back off a bit. “Go home!” They ran away in different directions, like they were afraid he’d follow. The boy came over and stuck his hand out. “Wu Dà Quán. What’s your name?”_

_“Ho Yinsen.” He shook it cautiously. “And thanks.”_

_“Méi guānxi. I don’t like bullies.” Dà Quán grabbed his hand. “Come to my house, my grandma’s making snacks.”_

“I cried because that was the only time your grandmother would let me eat me dòufu huā and almond cookies.” Yinsen stood upwind and watched the party in the ballroom for a moment. “Stark was still kinder than those boys ever were. Before I introduced you he ignored me completely.” 

“Perhaps that is unfair to him, but the stench of arrogance and unconscious privilege is the same.” 

Yinsen snorted in amusement. It was a point that had been brought up many times over the years, but he would always be grateful for the protection, both physical and social, Dà Quán provided through their childhood. “He is a genius and a billionaire! Imagine what he could do if he chose to make something, anything other than weapons.”

“Still an idealist after all these years, dà gē?” Yinsen teased gently. “Noblesse oblige has always come easy to you.”

_“Again.” It was late, and the exam was tomorrow, but Yinsen knew Dà Quán knew this. He just needed to understand he did._

_“The past tense is used to describe an action in the past that was completed and ended. The past progressive is used to describe an action in the past that was interrupted. The past perfect is used to describe an action in the past that was completed before another took place. The past perfect progressive is used to describe an on-going action in the past that has ended.” He recited dully, and flopped over on the bed._

_“See, you’re doing fine. You know this.” Yinsen knew that his own facility with languages was something that Dà Quán did not begrudge him at all, the way he was able to slip between the unfamiliar, disparate grammars and absorb the vocabulary like a dry sponge; but it was frustrating to not be able to transfer at least a little bit of that to his friend. This was only one of many nights over the years where rote memorization seemed to be the only way Dà Quán could get the knowledge into his head._

_“But what’s the point?” Dà Quán banged his head into his pillow for extra emphasis. “I get into Tsinghua, and they stick me on the same track as every one of the other Party kids, and I end up rubbing shoulders with the same entitled little emperors who used to call you names.” Yinsen smacked him on the shoulder._

_“There are so many people in the world who would kill to get where you are, you know that? Not just in Afghanistan, but even here.” Dà Quán shifted on the bed, knowing he was right but not quite willing to admit it. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but you still have choices about what to study. But you have to get in first.” Dà Quán sighed mightily._

_“All right. One more time.”_

“Wu Dà Quán, the grandly and martially named son of a lowly apparatchik, clawed his way through qualifying exams and the best schools in China with no help from anybody, and all of his considerable success is due to his hard work, strength of character and more than ample brain.” Yinsen declaimed, sketching a mocking salute. This time he did stick out his tongue, startling a laugh from Dà Quán. Yinsen had seen his best friend struggle over the years with how much he was handed simply by being born into the place he was, but he was also glad that he was now at peace enough with it to be teased. 

“As I recall, you were the one who came up to me and said ‘Stick with me, dìdi, and we’ll go places together.’” He bumped shoulders with Dà Quán gently, and he bumped back. 

_The truck cab was tiny. It was actually beyond tiny. Yinsen could touch both sides of it if he stretched his hands out. Somehow it was supposed to fit him, Dà Quán, and the driver and deliver them mostly intact to Gulmira. He was suddenly overwhelmed, and starting to regret this whole misadventure._

_“I’m not sure I can do this.” He has seen Dà Quán get angry, but not like this. His lips firmed up and he held himself stiffly, like he was trying to contain his frustration._

_“How can you even think of backing out now? We’re so close! Don’t you want to see the place where you were born?”_

_“I’m scared.” The fight went out of Dà Quán’s body immediately, and he grabbed Yinsen’s hand._

_“I’ll be right there with you, dìdi. I always will be.”_

“Speaking of which--” Dà Quán pulled a stack of papers out of his suit pocket and unfolded them. They looked imposingly official, with fancy calligraphy and embossed seals. Yinsen thought he would ask about this. He’d been indecisive about whether to take this step for many months. Beijing was the only home he’d ever known, and he loved it. But the need for a hospital in Gulmira was great, and Sana wanted to spend more time with her great-grandparents while she still could. Reja talked longingly about being able to grow old among the mountains of her youth, and that was something he could not deny. 

“Yes. I think it’s time.” He said, feeling giddy and completely certain of his decision all at once. Dà Quán produced a pen and a small pot of zhūshā from another pocket. They scribbled their signatures and affixed bright red seals next to them, and it was done.

_The ride was longer and even bumpier than he expected. The sun was starting to set by the time they finally got to Gulmira, but there was enough light to paint the buildings of the town a beautiful rosy orange. After consulting with multiple passers-by, they reached a house in an alley. He knocked on the door, and a young woman opened it. A look of surprise crossed her face--which was quite beautiful, Yinsen noticed--but she schooled her expression quickly._

_“You must be Yinsen. You look so much like your father. Come in, come in.” She stepped by to let them pass, and he saw an old man and woman sitting in the living room. He has seen them, younger, in a picture sent to him from a contact. The old woman started weeping as she saw him, and Yinsen found his face was wet too. He was folded in an embrace between his amaa and nikah, and while it didn’t feel like home yet, he felt a burden he didn’t know he’d been carrying drop away._

“How do you feel?” Dà Quán had found two glasses of champagne, and he passed one to Yinsen. Yinsen saw a flurry of activity in the ballroom, and saw people streaming out into the cold, pointing at the sky. In a few weeks it would be nián jié, and he would see his amaa, nikah, wife, and daughter. But for now, this was enough. Distantly, he heard the countdown to the new year, followed by the crackle of fireworks. 

“Like I’m where I need to be.” They clinked glasses, watching the fireworks go off above.

**Author's Note:**

> **Glossary**
> 
> All terms are Mandarin unless specified. 
> 
> Dà Quán - Big Fist - proper name  
> dà gē - big brother  
> dìdi - little brother  
> mán zi - foreign barbarian (insult)  
> gǔn dàn - get out (insult)  
> méi guānxi - no big deal  
> dòufu huā - a silken tofu dessert  
> zhūshā - red paste, similar to sealing wax  
> amaa - grandmother (Pashto)  
> nikah - grandfather (Pashto)  
> nián jié - Lunar New Year
> 
>    
> Title is from "Down Chung-nan Mountain and Overnight, with Wine, at Hu-ssu's House" by Li Po, trans. J.P. Seaton. There does not appear to be a copy of this particular translation online, but here are a [couple](http://yang-sheng.com/?p=8347) [others](http://books.google.com/books?id=aoH11JVHs4AC&pg=PA424&lpg=PA424&dq=down+zhongnan+mountain&source=bl&ots=tZXrlFJAv4&sig=7rN3uNgJj8EyDBc9WnqDyykLSk0&hl=en&sa=X&ei=nRrbU-PgI4PpigKxxICABA&ved=0CEcQ6AEwBDgK#v=onepage&q=down%20zhongnan%20mountain&f=false) so you can get the gist.


End file.
